What is Right and What is Easy
by NicoleVictoria01
Summary: After the war, Harry feels lost and alone so he cuts himself. He's falling headfirst into a major depression and nobody notices except (no longer) childhood enemy of Harry, Draco Malfoy. Will Draco be able to save Harry before it's too late, or will his attempts at fixing the Boy Who Lived prove futile? Triggers for cutting, suicidal thoughts, language. 8th Year fic! Drarry!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So this is my first Drarry fanfiction so please don't be too harsh! I know this chapter is kinda short, but I couldn't have written more without making it incredibly long and probably writing three chapters worth. Anyways, I hope you like it!_

_Triggers: self-harm_

Chapter 1:

Harry Potter sits in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, wrists bleeding profusely. He waits about five minutes before spelling his wounds to stop bleeding although he doesn't use a healing spell. He never uses healing spells, letting his wounds scar his wrists, reminding himself of what he's capable of doing whenever he needs relief.

Harry hasn't always been this weak. He used to be strong, or at least, stronger. He's done what was expected of him-nothing more, nothing less. But now that Voldemort is dead, Harry has felt lost. He's done what his sole purpose of living was; what else is there? Harry receives praise everyday for his duties done to the wizarding world from random strangers, people he has never seen in his life, yet he still feels he doesn't deserve any of it. Now that he's killed the Dark Lord, there really is no reason for Harry to be alive.

He gets up off his bed, grabbing his packed bags and apparates to Platform 9 ¾. Harry and most of the rest of his year are coming back to Hogwarts for what they have termed their "eighth year" at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts professors had all agreed that the former seventh year students would much benefit from another year at Hogwarts and invited all of the students that hadn't died (or had been sent to Azkaban for their involvement in the wrong side of the war) back to complete their schooling. Harry only knows of three Slytherins that chose to come back, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson.

Harry doesn't know if he's looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, but he knows he's glad that he will not be living alone anymore. He's excited to see his friends, especially Ron and Hermione. He hasn't seen them since the battle, frankly because he hasn't wanted to leave the simplicity of his home. He hadn't felt like being hounded by photographers and reporters every time he walked out of Grimmauld Place, and he certainly didn't want everyone's attention on him. Yes, he had saved the wizarding world, but he'd always hated the publicity he got just because he had a stupid scar on his forehead. Harry just wants to be treated like a normal person for once, and even though he loves Ron and Hermione he knows that even they won't treat him the same. The one time they had fire-called them had been awkward; Hermione had tried to turn it into some type of therapy for trauma victims and Ron had tagged along with his girlfriend, trying to get Harry to "talk about his feelings" and "let out some of his pent up anger about the war." He knew they were just trying to be good friends but he's not some basket case. Yeah, he still gets nightmares and flashbacks and sometimes he cuts himself, but that doesn't mean he's crazy. Ron and Hermione don't even know that about him. Harry doubts Ron even knew what he was talking about, just trying to make his girlfriend happy.

Yet another thing Harry feels uncomfortable about. Harry loves that his two best friends found happiness through the pain and destruction of the war, but that doesn't stop him from feeling like a third wheel, even if he hasn't talked to them since the fire call one and a half months ago.

"Harry!" He hears the voice of Hermione through the crowd at King's Cross Station and turns to see her running towards him, smiling widely. She throws her arms around him, hugging him with force that Harry frankly hadn't thought she had.

"Hey," He says, smiling at her when she lets him go. Over her shoulder he sees Ron, struggling to carry all of his and Hermione's bags. Hermione lets out a small laugh and levitates the bags over to her and Harry.

"How was your summer, Harry?" Ron says, after giving Harry a slightly awkward hug.

"It was great," Harry lies, faking a smile.

Harry's summer was not great at all. He slept through most of it, though not soundly, suffering from nightmares plagued with Voldemort and death and destruction. When he wasn't having a nightmare he was slowly cutting himself to death leaving his body riddled with scars. Harry knows it's not healthy for him to cut himself, but he can't help it. He's found himself addicted to the sight of his blood flowing freely out of his arms, wrists, stomach, and thighs. He spent days without eating, just drinking bottle on bottle on bottle of firewhisky until Kreacher, a now very loyal and considerate house elf, would have to help him up to his bedroom so he wouldn't hurt his neck if he passed out on the couch or at the dining room table.

"What about you guys, what did you do over the summer?" Harry asks, smiling a little brighter at his two best friends.

"Hermione and I went and found her parents in Australia, took us a while too, with Hermione's damn good anti-tracking spells. No wonder she's the brightest witch of our age. Anyway, after we found them she took their memory spells off, didn't even know that was possible. We spent about two weeks there catching up before going to Paris for a romantic getaway. Figured that after all this time we deserved something fun and just for us, you know?" Ron explains. Hermione smiles at him and Harry can't help but feel jealous of their relationship. Of course he was so excited about it all but at the same time he felt lost and alone and even a little bit scared.

"C'mon boys, let's get on the train," Hermione speaks up. Ron and Harry oblige and get on the train for their last ride to Hogwarts.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to find a compartment near the middle of the train, right across from Seamus, Neville, Luna, and Dean. It's halfway through the ride to Hogwarts and Harry's already changed into his school robes, but Hermione and Ron aren't, no doubt taking the time it took Harry to change to snog a little before he came back. The trolley had just finished going around and, although considered legal adults in the wizarding world, Harry and Ron were acting like twelve year old boys when they caught sight of the candy, buying almost half the cart full. "I'm excited for this last school year, maybe it will finally be normal, and not completely crazy like that last six right mate?"

"I hope so," Harry replies to Ron, after swallowing a chocolate frog. Hermione scrunches her nose up in disgust at the amount of candy the boys bought, ridiculing them for acting much less mature than they should be.

"There are first years on this train who look up to you both; you shouldn't be stuffing your faces with sweets!" Hermione had exclaimed as she noticed what they had bought after the trolley left. Ron just rolled his eyes, while Harry stifled laughter.

"I'm going to get on my robes; you should too, Hermione," Ron gets up and grabs his school robes. Hermione follows and soon Harry is alone in the compartment. Harry tries not to think too much, but whenever he's alone his mind gets the best of him and he usually ends up getting pulled into the world of the war again.

Although Harry is excited to go back to Hogwarts, he's terrified at the same time. He knows that he has bad nightmares and flashbacks away from the site of where it all started (and ended.) Harry's terrified of what will come once he reaches the place where he fought evil for the last time, where he used to call his home, but it now just full of frightening memories (even though they seem like much more than that.)

Harry knows he's not prepared to see Hogwarts again. Harry knows he's not even prepared to see his teachers again. He can already imagine the look on McGonagall's face when she sees Harry again for the first time. Or Professor Snape, who surprised Harry by living when Nagini had attacked him, only having passed out after giving Harry his memories. Harry isn't even sure he wants to see Hagrid, his first friend he made before coming to Hogwarts, the half-giant who had carried him through the forbidden forest, when Voldemort had thought he was dead. Harry just doesn't know if he's prepared for any of this.

Harry is abruptly broken out of his thoughts by the compartment door roughly sliding open. Harry looks up to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway, rather awkwardly. "Um, hello, Potter," He says glancing around the compartment. "May I come in?"

Harry nods, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat when he took in the sight of Malfoy. "H-hello," He says, not knowing why he stuttered.

"I just wanted to say thank you...for… you know… saving my life in the Room of Requirement," Malfoy said, sitting down across from Harry, looking up at him through his blond hair that had grown a little longer over the summer. The effect was not completely lost on Harry, who stifled a gasp at how handsome he found Malfoy to be. Harry knew he was attracted to boys, one of the reasons he has broken up with Ginny a week after the battle ended, but he never thought he would be attracted to Malfoy. Harry told himself it was only his looks though, obviously, because Malfoy's personality was never that attractive after all.

"You really don't have to thank me," Harry replies, rather awkwardly. He certainly doesn't need thanks from Malfoy, just like he doesn't need thanks from anybody else. Harry did what was right and now that he killed Voldemort, people don't have to pretend to care about him anymore. The only question was, why were people still pretending to care about him? The thought always stumped Harry, who had thought about it greatly over the summer, having nothing better to do. "Please don't actually. Anybody would have done it, so there's really no need." Harry shies away from any type of thanks. Surely, it wouldn't have been needed if his sole purpose in life since birth wasn't to bring down one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Surely if Voldemort hadn't instilled some of his power in Harry when he gave him that wretched lightning scar, Harry wouldn't be as powerful as he is. Harry hates being the saviour of the wizarding world, wishing that he could be nothing more than a normal wizard for once in his life, someone like Seamus or Dean or even Malfoy. He hates being Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Harry hates himself.

"I really hope that we can put our past behind us," Malfoy says, getting up. "I would hate to end this year at each other's throats, especially after what you've done for me." Harry glares at Malfoy when he says that, prompting him to then say, "Which I will never bring up again unless absolutely necessary."

"Thank you," Harry says, smiling slightly. He stands up as well as says, "Maybe we could become friends, Draco?" Harry smirks a little at the surprised look on Ma-Draco's face when he hears Harry use his first name.

"Of course," Draco replies, once again putting on the Malfoy mask of indifference. He holds out his hand for Harry to shake, which Harry gladly takes. They shake hands, in a not completely awkward fashion, and then Harry hears Draco gasp. "What did you do to your wrist?!"

Harry glances down and sees that as he shook Draco's hand, his robes rode up a bit making his scars and newest cuts visible, a vibrant red against Harry's pale skin. Harry quickly shoves his sleeve down past his hand and looks up at Draco shocked. "N-nothing… Just… Battle scars… From the war, you know?" Harry tries making a pathetic attempt at an excuse, but he knows Draco isn't buying it. He thinks to himself that he should have just used the cliche cat excuse but he used that when Kreacher saw them and even he didn't believe him, muttering things like "Master should not be cutting himself" and "Kreacher hopes Master is okay" throughout the entire week after that.

Draco looks at Harry worriedly, and says, "Well… Even though we just started being friendly and everything… if you ever want to talk, you can come to me." Harry sees pity in his eyes. Harry hates it when people pity him. He knows Ron and Hermione pity him. He knows the Weasleys pity him. Hell, even Kreacher probably pities him.

Harry wonders where his two best friends might be, as it has now been at least twenty minutes since when they left to get their robes on. He decides to go and find them, so Harry gets out of the compartment. It's not long, less than thirty seconds, before Harry finds Ron and Hermione. He doesn't actually see them, but he hears the voice of Ron telling a joke and Hermione laughing along with everyone else in the car across from him, the one with all of their other friends, the ones Ron and Hermione would much rather be hanging out with. Of course, who would want to hang out with the self-deprecating, depressed Harry Potter? Harry can't think of anybody, not even those he believes are the closest to him. Harry feels tears prick the edge of his vision and quickly makes haste towards the restrooms.

He locks himself in the mens' toilet and pulls out his blade from his left pocket. Tears now freely flowing down his face at his friends' rejection, Harry starts cutting.

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please review! Like I said, this is my first Drarry fic, so constructive criticism is welcome! Also, please disregard any grammatical errors I made, it's almost 2:30 am so I'm running on pretty much nothing. Anyways, thanks for reading! _ _Nicole_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi! Thanks all for reading! Here's the second chapter! I hope you like it! Very OOC vulnerable!Harry in this chapter, but I think I like how it turned out. Anyways, thanks for reading!_

_Triggers: self-harm, violence_

About three quarters through dinner, Severus Snape takes his eyes off of the Boy Who Lived and turns to the headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. "Have you noticed anything wrong with Potter?" From the moment Severus took a look at the boy he realized that he wasn't the same as he was before the war. Of course, Severus knew that nobody was, but Potter had obviously changed the most, being the most important person in the war. None of Potter's friends could see past the glamours he put up, but Severus had spent years developing the power to see past any glamour one could put up, even if that person was possibly the most powerful wizard in the world. Harry's eyes were sunken in with dark circles underneath them, showing how little sleep he got, most like plagued with nightmares like Severus. He had gotten much thinner since the war ended; Severus can see the bones of his hips through his robes. And his eyes, the look in his eyes, it's like they don't even know what happiness is, what _any_ feeling is really. They're just empty. Severus can see that Harry is not doing well, not at all. And, for once, Severus is concerned for Harry Potter.

"Well, he did just fight in a war two months ago, Severus. Of course he's going to be different," Minerva replies, only glancing quickly at Harry. Severus knows that there is something severely wrong with the boy, though, and he's going to find out what.

Harry collapses on his bed blowing his hair away from his eyes. "You okay there?" Draco asks, sitting on the bed opposite Harry. Headmistress McGonagall had grouped different houses to room together to support house unity and it just so happened that she had roomed Harry and Draco together. Neither minded because of the new friendship budding between them, as established earlier.

"'M tired," Harry says into his pillow, inhaling deeply. In truth, he really just wants Draco to leave to the common room so Harry can take the glamours off and go cut himself. One good thing about the eighth year dormitories were the en suite bathrooms connected to each of the separate rooms. Harry and Draco's bathroom was also connected to Ron and Blaise's, with two doors on either end. There were two stalls, two showers, and two sinks in the bathroom. The cupboards were equipped with everything the boys packed for bathroom needs, shaving cream, shampoo, and Harry's favorite, his razors. Although Ron (and most likely Draco and Blaise) use magic to shave, Harry never felt as if he got all the stubble off his chin by using magic and had always preferred the muggle way. And of course, when he figured out how amazing dragging a razor through his skin felt, they came in handy. Harry would much prefer to use his normal blade, a pocket knife given to him by Sirius after he had reappeared from the Veil once the battle with Bellatrix and Voldemort was over, but Harry knew it would look suspicious bringing it in with him to his shower, so he made sure to bring extra razors to take apart and use.

When it became clear that Draco wouldn't be leaving the room any time soon, Harry excuses himself to take a shower. Draco smiles at him, but underneath it is a cloud of worry.

Draco's not stupid and he knows what he saw under Harry's robes. Those cuts were not 'battle wounds,' and frankly, Draco is kind of offended Harry thinks he would believe that. Those cuts were self-inflicted, Draco knows it. He just needs to figure out how to make sure and to get Harry the help he needs. And he thinks he knows exactly who to go to.

Meanwhile, Harry looks at himself in the mirror and cringes. "_Too fat,_" He whispers, pinching the skin on his stomach and grimacing. He didn't eat anything at dinner, just pushing his food around his plate mindlessly. When Hermione noticed and said something, he dismissed it as nerves of being back to school, but he really just can't eat or else he'll get fatter. He moves onto his face, scrutinizing his dark, sunken in eyes and hollow cheeks. He takes in his pasty skin, frowning at invisible blemishes. His unfixable hair sits atop his head taunting him. He feels like ripping it out. Then he looks at his scar, strikingly vibrant against his pale features. He scowls at the thing, feeling more hatred towards his body than ever. _God, I'm so fucking ugly. _ Harry has to stop himself from hitting the mirror in front of him, reminding himself that it's Hogwarts property and not his. In the two months alone at Grimmauld Place, Harry had broken 14 mirrors, repairing them countless times. Next, Harry looks at his arms, stomach, and thighs, running his hands over the countless number of cuts riddled there. His finger traces over the words, weak, pathetic, and worthless written on his thighs. Harry could easily spell away the scars and heal the cuts with magic, but he doesn't want to. He likes the sight of his scars, reminding him that he's human. Anyway, it's not like they could be worse than the curse on his forehead.

He grabs his shower supplies and steps under the warm spray of water. He realizes the water is scalding, but he barely feels it burning against his flesh. Instead, he turns his attention to the three razor blades he extracted earlier. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, knows that it could very easily kill him. '_But that's what you want isn't it?_' A voice inside Harry's head whispers to him. '_No,'_ Harry quickly argues against it, but thinks for a while. Is it what he wants? Harry assures himself that he doesn't want to die, but the more he thinks about it, the more he welcomes the prospect of death.

Harry forces himself out of his suicidal thoughts by dragging the blade across his skin, tugging horizontally and reveling in the blood he sees spilling out of his wrists. He cuts over cuts, opening multiple wounds from earlier, feeling great relief as he watched the blood pour out from his wrists. After his arms are full Harry still feels anxious and full of self-hatred, so he moves on to his stomach. Finally, after cut after cut after cut, Harry feels the relief he needs. Leaning against the wall he lets the stream of water flow over his arms and stomach, exhaling at the familiar burning sensation he feels.

Harry washes up without bother to stop himself from bleeding, but once he feels dizzy he bandages up his arms and makes sure his stomach is not bleeding anymore. He feels tired and drained from bleeding so much that he just throws on his pajamas, long-sleeved of course, and falls into bed without putting up his usual silencing charm, falling asleep quickly.

_Harry is in Godric's Hollow, in the house where it all started. Except this time, it's not his parents that are dead in front of him. It's Dumbledore and Sirius. Voldemort is standing over a cowering figure in the corner and Harry seems glued to the spot he's standing in. He hears Voldemort start to say _"Avad-" _but then he hears someone from the other side of the room cast a stunning curse. Harry turns his gaze towards Hermione and Ron, standing on the defensive, prepared to battle Voldemort. "No!" Harry yells, refusing to let Ron and Hermione hurt themselves for him anymore. They don't seem to hear him as Voldemort turns away from the person in the corner moving towards Ron and Hermione. "No! Stop! Kill me instead!" Harry yells frantically, trying to make his feet move, but it's impossible. It doesn't even seem as if Voldemort or Hermione or Ron or whoever the figure in the corner is can hear him. Voldemort approaches Ron and Hermione and levitates them forcing their wands out of their hands, leaving them helpless. He casts crucio on Hermione, forcing Harry to watch as his friend writhes in agony and pain. He sees Ron struggling to get back on the ground so he can retrieve his wand and save Hermione._

"_Stop it!" Ron yells, looking on in horror at Hermione. Voldemort quickly casts sectumsempra on Ron, violent gashes appearing all over his body. Harry watches as Ron's once identifiable body becomes a mass of blood and skin and muscle within a minute. Harry grimaces as he sees Ron trying to counteract the curse, but only causing himself more pain. Voldemort turns to Hermione, throwing her into the wall behind her. Harry grimaces as he hears a few cracks, the force of the hit breaking a few of Hermione's bones. He sees more than hears her gasp and pain as she looks up at Voldemort in terror. She scrambles around for her wand, but can't move much because of her wounds. _

"_Just do it quickly, please." That's the last thing Harry hears before a green flash of light shoot out of Voldemort's wand, but it doesn't kill Hermione like he's expecting it to. Instead it hits Ron square in the chest._

"_No!" Harry and Hermione yell at the same time, tears flowing down both of their faces. Harry's failed. He can't do anything right, not even save his friends. 'God, I'm such a fucking failure,' He thinks as Voldemort turns away from Hermione, gesturing to Nagini. Harry hadn't noticed her earlier, too engrossed in trying to move his feet away from the spot where they're glued to help his friends. Harry cries out as Nagini lashes out at one of his best friends, slowly killing her. At this point, Harry would rather Voldemort just kill her quickly. Anything but this._

_Harry turns his attention away from the morbid actions of Nagini, focusing instead on Voldemort and the figure in the corner again, now realizing that the person is Draco. "What to do with the traitor?" Voldemort asks himself, glaring down at Draco. _

"_Please, my Lord, please don't-" Draco starts but gets cut off by an infuriated Voldemort._

"_Silence!" He shuts Draco up with one word. He pulls Draco up by grabbing a fistful of his hair, drawing out a cry of pain. He rips the sleeve of Draco's left arm up, revealing his Dark Mark. He thrusts his wand onto the tattoo and Draco immediately yells out in pain, trying to grasp his forearm. Voldemort laughs at Draco's expense and after what seems like hours removes his wand from the boy's wrist. Draco gasps as he looks at his forearm, the Dark Mark completely gone, leaving the skin open and bloody with muscle and some bone appearing from the unsightly gash. Without a second glance at Draco he throws him under the cruciatus curse and leaves him writhing in pain. Voldemort admires his handiwork as he looks around the room and finally his eyes rest upon Harry. _

_Once Voldemort's eyes meet the Boy Who Lived, Harry gasps in pain, feeling his scar burn incredibly. "Hello, Harry," Voldemort says, smiling at the boy, leaving him with an unsettling feeling. "Did you enjoy watching your friends die?"_

"_You're a monster," Harry says, scowling at the Dark Lord. Harry brings his hand up to rub against his scar, still burning painfully._

"_No, I think you're the monster," Voldemort replies. "You're the one that killed your friends. You didn't help them at all; you just stood there watching pathetically as your friends died for you, Harry. They fought for you and you let them down."_

"_You're lying," Harry says, though he knows what Voldemort is saying is true. He failed them. He failed his best friends. They're dead because of him. It's all his fault._

_Voldemort laughs. "Oh, Harry. Poor pathetic Harry… Harry… Harry… Harry!"_

"Harry, Harry, wake up Harry!" Draco shakes Harry awake bringing him out of his nightmare.

"No, please, stop, get awa-" Harry begins to speak but Draco interrupts him.

"Shh, Harry, you're okay now, you're at Hogwarts," He makes sure to speak calmly even though he has no idea what to do. He woke up about five minutes earlier to Harry shuffling around in his bed screaming no's and stop's. Draco didn't know what to do, but figured that it would be wise to wake up and stop him from proceeding on with his nightmare.

When Harry starts quietly sobbing, Draco pulls him into his arms, hugging him tight. "You're okay, Harry. Shhh, it's okay." He rubs soothing circles into Harry's back, frowning at the hardships of the boy. Harry pulls away from him abruptly and starts breathing heavily. Draco can tell he's on the verge of hyperventilating and knows that he's probably having a panic attack. "Harry, Harry, honey, stop." Draco doesn't know why he uses the pet name, but it somehow feels right.

This doesn't do anything to calm Harry down though and soon he starts scratching at his arms, violently. Draco knows what the boy is trying to do and he quickly puts a stop to it. He pulls Harry's hand away from his arm and pulls up the sleeve. Harry's arms are wrapped in bandages, but he doesn't even move to stop Draco as he pulls away the bandages. Draco has to stifle a gasp as he reveals what's hidden under the wrappings. Draco knew that was he saw was going to be serious, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The cuts on Harry's arms are deep gashes, only just shallow enough not to reveal his muscle and fat underneath. If there _was_ any fat under there. Draco had watched Harry at dinner and knew he wasn't eating nearly as much as he should.

"Oh, Harry," Draco says, looking up at the boy's face. "Why?"

Harry looks back at Draco, but his eyes are completely devoid of any type of emotion. He starts wrapping the bandages up over his cuts again, reminding Draco of a zombie, moving but not really acting like he has a purpose. Harry doesn't say anything to Draco and just lays on his side, facing away from the ex-Death Eater. Draco only moves when he hears the quiet cries of the boy and sees the slight shaking of his shoulders. Then he moves under the covers of the bed with Harry and wraps an arm around the boy. "Shh, Harry, it's okay. I've got you. You're okay, you're safe here. I promise." He gives a slight kiss to the back of Harry's head before he feels the boys breathing even out, knowing that he fell asleep.

Draco knows that he can't keep this a secret anymore. Harry's already gone too far; Draco can't let him do any more harm to his body. He would never forgive himself if he did. After deciding that Draco's going to tell someone the next day, he falls asleep, dreams full of a boy with dark hair and vibrant green eyes.

The next day, after Draco's fourth class of the day, he knocks on the door of his favorite professor. He hears shuffling behind the door and soon it opens, revealing the office inside.

"Come in, Draco," Professor Snape says, closing the door as he steps into the surprisingly cozy office. "What brings you here today? I'm sure you aren't having any trouble in any of your classes."

"No, Sev… I'm here to voice my concerns about another student," Draco replies, somewhat nervous in front of his godfather. Draco knows he has to do this, but that doesn't make it any easier.

"Ah… About Potter, correct?" Sev answers, looking up at Draco through his long, dark locks. He gestures towards two chairs in the sitting room off to the right of his office and he and Draco both sit. Severus knew that Potter was getting closer to Draco, and he saw how concerned Draco looked every time he looked over at Potter during the now three meals they had shared together in the Great Hall.

"...Yeah," Draco says, not at all surprised that his godfather knew who he was talking about. He knew that Severus had always been wise and observant, and had a history of depression himself, which is why Draco had decided to look towards him for advice. He knew the man would be understanding and that he and Harry had had a change of heart during the war. He, of course, didn't know how or why, but he knew it had happened, even if Sev doesn't like admitting it and still calls Harry by his last name. "Sev… He's cutting himself."

Draco hears Severus gasp and turns to see his reaction. He can tell the man is shocked, and he himself is surprised that Sev hasn't already figured it out. "I first saw them on the train, his robe sleeve rode up a little and I saw the scars… He told me they were from the war… Like I'd believe that. And then last night he had a nightmare, a bad one by the sounds of it. So I got up and tried calming him down, but he started hyperventilating and trying to scratch his arms. I got him to stop and then lifted up his sleeve. He didn't even try to stop me, Sev. Just let me do it. He covered them in bandages and when I took them off. Oh, God, Sev, it was bad. Really bad." Draco is in tears when he finishes and Severus quickly places a comforting hand on his knee. He can see how concerned Sev is, and knows that he's done the right thing.

"Thank you for telling me, Draco. I know it was hard. You came to the right person. I'll talk to the boy tomorrow," Severus gives him a rare smile and stands up. "I have some paper work to do now, but if you need anything, _anything_ at all, please don't hesitate to come back. Thank you again for telling me, Draco."

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Sorry I took so long to update, I'm trying to do it every week, but yesterday i had to go to bed early to wake up early today, so I didn't have time to write it all. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome! _ _Nicole_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I am so so so so so sorry for not updating sooner. I was visiting family and got back to my house yesterday. I would have uploaded from my phone, but it's broken and is doing really crazy stuff. I am SO sorry. But here's the third chapter. I think it's longer than the first two, but I don't know if I like it as much. Please review and leave constructive criticism! Thanks for reading!_

_Triggers: self-harm, suicidal thoughts_

"Harry," The Boy Who Lived turned around abruptly as he heard his name. He had taken a while to pack up his belongings after potions class. He hadn't been surprised to hear Snape calling for him after class; he'd had a particularly terrible day and his cauldron had nearly exploded. What surprised Harry was that Snape had called him by his first name. Harry was sure that Snape would only do that once Hell had frozen over.

"Yes, sir?" Harry questions, walking over to his professor's desk. Hearing his first name come out of Snape's mouth worried him already, but Harry instantly became riddled with anxiety when he saw the serious look on Snape's face.

"Please follow me into my office," The potions professor says, walking briskly into his office, black robes billowing behind him. With a deep sigh, Harry drags himself into Snape's office, dreading what might be waiting for him.

"Am I in trouble, sir?" Harry asks, sitting down on the couch in Snape's office.. The professor surprises Harry by sitting down next to him.

"No… I called you here to talk about something… Draco came to me yesterday, Harry. He told me some quite unsettling things." Snape looks at Harry with sad eyes, and the boy immediately starts inwardly panicking.

'_Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have told Draco. No… This can't be happening. I'm dreaming, having a nightmare. That must be it. This is not happening.' _Harry thinks. Severus watches as his eyes dart around the room, probably trying to find an escape. He stands abruptly and rocks back and forth dizzily. "Harry, sit down. We need to-" Snape gets cut off when the boy starts hyperventilating. He gets up and tries calming Harry down, but it's clear it's no use. It's obvious to Severus the boy is having a panic attack, as he has suffered through many of those while Voldemort was in reign. "Harry, Harry, listen to me. It's going to be okay. I know you're scared, but you're going to be okay. You can get through this, Harry."

When Severus finishes speaking, Harry has calmed down quite a bit. He's still a little shaky, and his eyes are still unfocused, but he's calm enough that Severus can talk to the boy. "Harry… I know this is scary. I know you don't want people to know about what you're going through, but I do know. I just want to help you, Harry. I know it's overwhelming, having this thrown on you, but you need to stop Harry."

"St-stop what? I have n-no idea what you're talking about," Harry says, quickly glancing around the room. Severus sighs, knowing Harry's lying and that he'll probably have to do this the hard way.

"If there's nothing wrong, would you mind pulling up your sleeves?" Snape asks, grimly. The professor doubts Harry would be smart enough to put up glamours, especially after hearing how much he wasn't himself last night by Draco. He hadn't even remembered to put up silencing charms to shield Draco from hearing his nightmares.

"No." Harry replies defiantly. He crosses his arms stubbornly.

"Potter." Snape threatens. "Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?" The professor grimaces at sounding so cliche, but he doesn't know how to phrase his words any other way.

"Professor, there is nothing wrong. I'm fine, I promise," Harry says, standing his ground. Snape can see his scowl and can read the boy easily, knowing he's lying. With the use of some quick wandless magic on Severus' part, Harry's arms are thrown in front of him and his sleeves are rolled up. Severus holds in a gasp as he looks at the boy's mutilated arms. He looks at the scars and the new cuts, some obviously created that very morning.

"Oh, Harry." Severus says, running a finger up over the boy's scars. "Why?"

The Boy Who Lived tries desperately to wrench his arms away from the potions professor's grasp, but the man is too strong. "Please, please, sir let me go," Harry cries, tears streaming down his face. "Please…" Harry begs, tears now streaming down his face. Harry sobs loudly desperately trying to get away from the professor.

Severus pulls Harry into his arms, hugging the boy tightly as he cries. Harry sobs into the man's chest. Snape leads them to the couch and Harry curls up next to the ex-Death Eater, crying loudly into his shoulder. "I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry," The boy says.

"Oh, Harry, it's okay," Snape replies, clutching the boy tightly, scared he would run away if not. "You're going to have to talk about this, you know."

Severus sees and feels Harry shudder and the boy pulls away from him, sniffling. "I-I know… But… n-not today… S-sorry." Severus nods sympathetically at Harry.

"I understand. Why don't you come visit me tomorrow and we can talk some more?" Severus says gently. "I do understand what you're going through, Harry. Maybe not to it's… full extent, but I do understand. Trust me."

"O-okay, professor," Harry replies shakily. Severus pulls him into another hug, embracing him quickly. When he release the boy, Harry gets up quickly and slightly awkwardly and hurries out the door. Severus sighs when he leaves and rests his head in his hands.

Severus felt terrible for the boy. He'd been through so much; he was obviously suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder. Severus knew that because that was what he had been diagnosed with himself. He doesn't like to think of it very much and now only sees a healer once a month for it, but most nights he still has nightmares about the suffering Voldemort put him through. _Not nearly as much suffering the Dark Lord put Harry through though,_ a voice in Severus' mind speaks up. _I put him through much suffering as well,_ Severus thinks back to the voice. He knows blaming himself for Potter's depression isn't going to do anyone any good, though, so he dismisses those thoughts quickly. _The boy needs to see a healer._ After deciding that Severus will talk to Macy, the young healer he's been seeing since the end of the war, he distracts himself from the Boy Who Lived and his problems by grading horrendous potions papers written by his first year class.

Harry knocks on Severus' door the next night after dinner, anxiously awaiting his talk with the professor. Almost immediately after his fist comes in contact with the door, he hears the man's voice from inside telling him to enter. Harry walks in, almost regretting his decision to show up.

"Hello, Harry. Please, sit down," Severus gestures to the place next to him on the couch and Harry sits. "Now, I don't want to try to understand why you do what you do, but I will try to help you through this hard time. Is that okay?"

"P-professor, don't take this the wrong way, but I… I really don't think that I n-need help," The boy replies, fidgeting slightly. It's true, Harry doesn't believe he needs help. His self-harm isn't an issue in his eyes. He doesn't cut too deep, and he's been doing this for months without anything too bad happening. Plenty of people cut themselves and nothing happens to them, and they don't get help. If they don't need help then Harry doesn't need help.

"Harry… I know you don't want help. I know you don't think you need help. I understand. But, trust me, you do need help. You want to know how I know?" Snape stops and waits for Harry to give a slight nod of his head. "Because that's exactly what I thought too, Potter. And I didn't get help until it was almost too late. Only three people aside from the healers that treated me know, but I tried to kill myself six months ago." Severus paused again to let Harry absorb his words, as he knew what he was saying was rather heavy. "I'd taken a death potion and if it weren't for Minerva finding me and being able to administer the antidote before it was too late, I would not be here right now. Against all of my deranged pleading to not be sent to St. Mungo's, Minerva quickly apparated us both there and I'd stayed for only about two weeks. They said that although most patients that were in similar situations as mine would stay in the psychiatric ward of the hospital once they reached top physical condition, but after talking to Minerva, my healers had decided it was best for me to stay with people I trusted and a healer come visit me there." Harry looks up at the professor curiously, and Severus knows his next question before it even leaves his mouth. "I stayed with Draco and his mother at their new manor in France."

Harry hadn't known the Malfoys bought a new manor. Now, he assumes that they both wouldn't want to stay in a house that had been plagued by so much evil, and that reminded them both of Lucius, locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his life. "I'm sorry, professor," Harry tries offering his condolences. He feels slightly awkward hearing Snape admit this to him. Of course, the boy feels terrible, but Harry doesn't know a thing about comforting Professor Severus Snape.

"No reason to be sorry. Anyway, a healer first came to see me every other day. I hated it at first, and most of our sessions consisted of her speaking, trying to get through to me and then giving up after it was clear I would not be speaking, and then sitting in rather uncomfortable silence. It took me a month to finally start speaking to her. It started off small; I usually spoke of your mother. Then our sessions became about my father, your father, his unworthy friends, and finally Voldemort. We'd both discovered he'd been the base of my issues, well, after myself of course. She'd diagnosed me with something called post-traumatic stress disorder, on top of the manic depression they'd diagnosed me with at the hospital. Of course, I wasn't happy with either of those. I'd raged about it for days, ranting and raving about how I wasn't some crazy lunatic in need of psychiatric help; I was a victim of the Dark Lord who just so happened to believe he didn't deserve to be living." Severus hadn't meant to let that slip so crudely, but as it had already been done all he does now is look at Harry, gauging for a reaction out of the boy. It doesn't seem Severus' admittance to his self-hatred fazed the boy that much, so the professor continues. "I've of course… accepted those things now, even though I may hate those parts of me. You do know what these disorders are, correct?"

Harry shakes his head at his professor and then clarifies, "Well, I know what PTSD is, but the other one I'm not so sure about."

"Manic depression. You might recognize it's other name? Bipolar disorder. My healer described at as a 'complex mood disorder.' I have episodes of major depression more often than mania, though. I don't think I'll have to explain to you the part about depression, but mania is just a period of extreme elation. I'm more often than not neutral these days, not experiencing an episode of either, but sometimes it still affects me."

"I think I understand, sir," Harry can't believe what his professor must have gone through. Harry can't imagine being diagnosed with two things that sound so terrible. To one day be incredibly depressed and upset and then the next to be elated with happiness? Harry knows that it must be more complicated than that, but it still sounds horrible.

"Do you want to know how I got through all of this, Harry?" Professor Snape asks. His answer is in the form of a vigorous nod from the Boy Who Lived and he goes on to say, "By talking to my healer. And I strongly believe you should, too. I fire-called her last night. Her name is Macy. At first she was worried I'd done something to myself, but after telling her I was fine, I told her about your predicament. Her and I both believe that you may have post traumatic stress disorder, as well, Harry. She wants to see you as soon as you feel up for it, even if you sit there saying nothing the whole time."

Harry shakes his head, desperately not wanting to talk to anyone else about how he feels and what he does to his body. "Sir, I don't need that," He says, trying to sound convincing.

"I think you and I both know that's false," Snape replies. "I know you're not going to like it, but you're going to have to do it. Whether you like it or not, I'm setting you up to see Macy next week. Friday. Does that give you enough time to sort out your thoughts? I'm afraid that's the latest we'll be able to do it, Macy only does emergencies on weekends and I don't want you waiting for the next Monday. Or would you like it earlier?" Severus knows the boy will keep the date the same, but he still puts the option out there. Harry shakes his head again dejectedly before Severus asks, "Where would you like it to be? You could have it in here, in one of the classrooms not used by teachers, in the headmistress' office? Don't worry, she doesn't know yet." Severus tacks on the point about Minerva not knowing as not to scare Harry away and then the boy answers.

"Um, c-could we just have it i-in here, sir?" He asks timidly.

"Of course, Harry," Severus says with a small smile. "I'll fire call Macy later and tell her that we'll meet on Friday. Would you like me to join in on your session? I know it's much easier with someone you trust with you as well. I had Draco join me in on quite a few of my sessions, and I'm sure Macy wouldn't mind."

"W-would that be alright, p-professor? I don't want t-to pull you away from your w-work," Harry replies nervously. He wants Severus to be there, but he's scared that the man will get mad at him for distracting him from his much more important things than Harry. The boy doesn't even know why Hermione and Ron bother hanging out with him much anymore.

"Harry, it would be perfectly fine. I don't have anything more important than my students well being," Severus says, sounding oddly out of character to Harry. "What time would you like? Of course I can do any time suitable to you, but it would probably be easiest if you got out of class and came down during my open period. I believe that on Friday during that time you have History of Magic, right before lunch. Would that be okay with you?" Harry nods and Severus pulls him into a tight embrace. "You can do this, I know it will be hard, but I believe in you." Severus finds it ironic that seven years ago, if someone had told him that now he'd be clutching the Boy Who Lived as if he were his own son and telling him everything would be okay he'd have laughed in their faces and then sent them to St. Mungo's himself. Severus almost laughs at the situation now until he feels the shaking of Harry's shoulders and feels the wetness of the boy's tears on his chest. "Oh, Harry, it's okay. You're going to be okay. You're strong, you can do this."

Harry nods and pulls away. "Thanks professor." He gets up and leaves, leaving Severus alone with thoughts of how to help the boy and make him believe how perfect he truly is.

When Harry is sure Professor Snape can't hear or see him he starts off in a run, bursting into the unused girls' bathroom, the one most often holding Moaning Myrtle. After Harry is sure the ghost isn't in the bathroom he shrugs off his robe and lifts up his shirt. Pulling his sharpest blade out of his bag, he brings it down on his scar-littered stomach slicing horizontally, sighing in relief as he sees the blood rush out of the wound. As Harry cuts he thinks of how worthless he is, how unworthy of this life, how stupid, fat, pathetic, ugly, useless, and how much of a shitty person he is. _I'm not strong. I'm not strong at all. Professor Snape was lying. I'm weak. I'm not going to get better. I can't do this. I'm never going to be okay. _Harry finishes by pressing the blade deeply into his stomach one last time and then wraps up his abdomen. He looks up into the mirror and presses his fingers onto his face, touching under his sunken in eyes, fingers moving to his dry chapped lips, his hollowed out cheeks, finally up to his scar, grimacing at the ugly mark left on his skin for eternity. Harry hates his scar almost as much as he hates himself. He wishes he could cut it off. Harry stops looking at himself and falls to the floor curling into a ball. As he feels a familiar numbness take over him, he's left with one thought. _I wish I was dead_.

The thought shocks Harry, enough to leave him without numbness. He doesn't want to die, does he? As the Boy Who Lived asks himself this question, he almost immediately gets his answer. _Yes, I do. I want to die. I don't want to be here anymore. I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired. I just want to feel okay again._ Harry starts getting his blades out again to finally finish himself off but he stops. _No,_ he thinks, _not today. I have to plan this if I want it to work. I can't just cut myself. I'll get Draught of Living Death like Professor Snape did, as well as cutting, and finish myself off that way. I just need to figure out how to get hold of it._

"Harry, are you okay, mate?" Draco asks, concerned for his friend. "You look upset."

"I'm fine, Dray." Harry replies. _Dray? God, you're such an idiot. _As Harry had talked to Draco more throughout the two days they'd been friends, he realizes that he may end up feeling for Draco as more than just a friend. Harry knows he can't let that happen, knows that it would do him no good to get attached to another person before he leaves the world for good.

Harry sees Draco blush at the nickname. "Dray? I like it," The ex-Death Eater replies. _Oh, thank God._ Harry can't imagine the embarrassment he'd feel if Draco hadn't liked the name. "So.. Harry… did, um, did Sev talk to you?" After a couple seconds and Harry realizes who the 'Sev' Draco's referring to is, the boy nods. Harry had avoided Draco since Snape had talked to him the first time, not wanting to have to explain what happened. "I'm sorry I broke your trust, but Severus knows what you're going through, he understands." _No, he doesn't_, Harry's mind retorts and Harry holds in a scowl. "I know you didn't want me to tell, but I know he can help you and he's a very trustworthy person. Um… what did you two talk about?"

"H-he wants me to see a healer," Harry says, so quiet he's almost whispering. "He said that he'd t-talk to her and that we could m-meet on, um, Friday, in his office."

"That's great, Harry! I'm so proud of you for being able to talk to someone," Draco says, smiling. He pulls Harry into a hug and the Boy Who Lived holds in his wince as Draco's body presses against his cut up stomach. Harry relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes and reveling in Draco's masculine scent. His lips turn up in a slight smile before Harry remembers that he mustn't be growing attached to anyone knew and that Draco probably isn't gay anyway and who would ever like someone as worthless and pathetic and unlovable as him? He pulls away, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes realizing that he's already too far deep and will have to face leaving Dray as well.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Draco asks, holding Harry's hand to keep him in place.

"Nothing, Draco, I promise. Just… nervous and stuff," Harry replies, turning away from the boy. Obviously, Harry can't tell Draco his plans or the boy will just stop him and Harry can't have that happening. The Boy Who Lived turns to his bed and plops down, pulling the covers over him without even putting on him pajamas. With one glance at his clock Harry sees that it's almost midnight and Harry had stayed in the girls' toilets for quite some time. He hears Draco get into the bed on the other side of the room.

"Night, Harry," The blond says. Harry slightly smiles hearing his silky smooth voice wishing him a good night and then surprises even himself with what he says next.

"Hey, Dray? Could you… I mean, would you mind if… if you slept in my bed tonight? I mean, um, you don't have to, it's just that… once you stayed by me last night I didn't have any more nightmares and I haven't slept that good in a long time… You don't have to if you don't want to it's stupid but-" Harry gets cut off when he hears a voice right next to his bed.

"It's fine, Harry, it's okay. I rather enjoyed sleeping with you, you're very comfortable." Harry can almost hear the smirk on Malfoy's face. "Now, scoot over and let me in."

Harry scoots and turns to face Draco once the other boy is settled into bed. He snuggles into Draco's side, head resting on the boy's chest. Draco wraps an arm around Harry, pulling him close.

"Is this okay?" Harry asks, worried that Draco would be freaked out by Harry's closeness.

"It's perfect."

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please review! _


End file.
